


Summer Camp

by the_east_wind_my_darling



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, First Kiss, M/M, Teen!strade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_east_wind_my_darling/pseuds/the_east_wind_my_darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft was terrified and homesick at his first summer camp, but meeting Gregory may turn this week into one of the best he's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiieeeee! Constructive criticism and kind comments are always welcome! I hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful beginning to 2015. xoxoxo

Mycroft put on a brave face as he stepped out of the posh black car and onto the gritty road. He blinked away the bright sunlight and adjusted his cargo shorts and his favorite t-shirt, the one with the diagram of a coleoptera. The driver placed Mycroft’s bags at his feet, and then drove away, kicking up clouds of dirt that stung the young boy’s eyes and left him feeling gritty. This camp was nothing like home. Mycroft picked up his suitcases and made his way to the main building, sending up silent prayers to the big guy in the sky that the place was air conditioned.

The homey building was, thankfully, air conditioned, and soon enough Mycroft found himself queuing up to find his dorm assignment. The kids around him chattered excitedly, grasping their parents hands and bouncing up and down, peering curiously at their fellow campers. Mycroft kept his gaze straight ahead. It was no use lamenting his mothers’ absence; she was quite busy and there was really no need for her to drive all the way out to the country just to turn back around again. Their goodbyes had been brief. It was, after all, only a week away from home, and Mummy assured him that it would fly by. But Mycroft already missed the soft sheets and old books in his bedroom, his dead bug collection, the cool popsicles the gardener snuck to him, and, of course, his baby brother. Blinking back tears, Mycroft shuffled forward to the receptionist desk.

“What’s your name, dear?” the woman at the front asked. (Late 40’s, three cats, divorced once, left at the alter the second time, dental appointment yesterday afternoon.)  
“Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes,” the boy answered in a timid voice.   
“And where’s your parents to see you off?” the woman smiled at him, awfully curious as to the boy signing himself into camp.  
“They’re busy,” Mycroft uttered, his standard response. The woman behind the desk brushed the hair off of his forehead.  
“Oh, I’m sorry dear. Let’s get you set up, shall we?” she said in a softer voice. Mycroft just nodded his assent, and followed the lady- Macy, her name tag said- back into the summer heat and across the campus. 

After a short trek around the mess hall, nurse’s tent, archery course, stables, and a quaint park that looked as though it had seen better days, they arrived at a small cabin painted a ghastly yellow color. The number 3 was scrawled on the door in green paint, surrounded by a wreath of prairie grasses and wildflowers. It was- hideous, but in a comforting, grandma’s-house-with-old-floral-print-that-smells-like-bleach kind of way. Mycroft secretly adored it. Macy pushed open the cabin door with a twist of the door knob and a shove with her hip, revealing wood floors, a bunk bed, three different paintings of a cardinal, a small bathroom, and a very, very attractive boy. (14 years old, plays footie, loves Harry Potter, third time away from home, and has an unnatural attraction to danger.) Mycroft sucked in a quick breath and blushed, diverting his eyes away from the handsome teen. 

“Mycroft, this is Greg. Greg this is Mycroft!” Macy said, completely oblivious to the younger boy’s predicament. She beamed at both of them, then proceeded to skip out of the doorway to her next duty. The door slammed behind her, making Mycroft jump. Greg let out a soft chuckle, raising his gaze to meet Mycroft’s. 

“Well, Mycroft, how about I give you the tour?” Greg said, standing up and heading for the doorway.  
“If you insist, Gregory,” Mycroft replied, setting down his suitcases to follow after the tall boy. Gregory suddenly came to a halt with one hand on the doorknob.  
“What did you just call me?” Gregory turned to ask. Mycroft, not expecting this sudden stop, ran straight into his (muscular, toned) chest.  
“Ooof!” Mycroft muttered as he rubbed his nose. “I called you Gregory,” he replied, tipping up his chin and crossing his arms in a challenge. Greg narrowed his eyes.   
“Alright, fine. You can call me Gregory, if I can call you…” he tilted his head, thinking. “Aha! If I can call you My.” Mycroft shrugged. He was usually violently disgusted by nicknames, especially cutesy ones, but he didn’t mind them so much when Gregory was the one calling him them.  
“My it is! Come on, My, I can’t wait to show you the horses!” Gregory shouted over his shoulder as he leaped down the cabin steps. Mycroft rolled his eyes and blushed.   
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” He yelled back.   
“That I can guarantee, my dearest My!” Gregory smiled at him. His eyes lit up as he stuck his tongue out at Mycroft. He still managed to look adorable. Mycroft was really screwed.

———

Mycroft lay in bed that night, utterly worn out. Gregory and him had walked around the whole camp, canoed on the lake, fallen in the lake, accidentally missed dinner, climbed the tallest tree, eaten three smokes each to make up for the loss of calories, managed to scrape up their elbows and knees bad enough to warrant a visit to the nurse, and, much to Mycroft’s embarrassment, he had managed to fall right on top of Gregory more than once. He had blushed and stuttered, but Gregory had just smirked at him and picked him back up like he weighed nothing. Normally, this would have been an enormous blow to Mycroft’s ego, but this was Gregory. And Gregory, it seemed, was the exception to every rule.

Mycroft should have fallen right asleep. But as fun as today had been, the discomfort of being in a new place had begun to set in. Mycroft was never good in new places. He liked knowing what to expect, knowing where his favorite soothing books were, where his hot chocolate was, and yes, okay, where his mum was. Here, there were no books, no hot chocolate, and certainly not his mum. He was all alone in an ugly cabin, covered in a bit too much grime for his liking, with a stranger, yes, a cute stranger, but a bit of a stranger nonetheless. A single tear rolled down Mycroft’s cheek, and he clutched his duvet from home a bit closer to himself. The tears continued to fall, no matter how much he blinked. He sniffled, just a bit, and turned towards the wall. 

Suddenly, he heard the sheets on the bunk below him rustle, and the creak of wood as Gregory climbed the ladder to the upper bunk. Mycroft quickly sat up and wiped at his cheeks, blinking rapidly as Gregory flicked on a flashlight. 

“My? Are you alright?” Gregory asked, his concern etched on his face. Mycroft nodded vigorously, not trusting himself to speak. Gregory narrowed his eyes, noting the redness of the younger boy’s eyes and his continued sniffling. Gregory shuffled closer, laying back alongside Mycroft on the forest green duvet, resting the flashlight next to him. He patted the mattress, and Mycroft wiggled until he lay horizontally next to the attractive boy. They lay quietly for a few minutes, savoring the comforting noiseless moment that stretched out between them. Mycroft felt his breathing slow down, his panicky thoughts ceasing as Gregory smiled at him.

“You know, Mycroft, if you’re feeling alone and you want a hug, you should just say something,” Gregory said not unkindly, breaking the silence. Mycroft shrugged, biting his lip. Gregory turned his head back to stare at the birch ceiling above them.   
“I wouldn’t mind, you know. I- I really like you,” Gregory said, letting the confession hang in the air. Mycroft’s blushed and his heart raced. He took a deep breath, hoping with all his heart that he wasn’t about to completely screw up the one good thing that had ever happened to him.  
“Like, like-like?” Mycroft replied, feeling utterly stupid.   
“Like-like,” Gregory answered, leaning over to press a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft’s breath hitched, and he turned his head ever so slightly. Gregory let his lips graze over Mycroft’s cheekbone, feeling the heat of his blush.   
“Oh, My,” he breathed, “You’re absolutely adorable.” And then he kissed him.

It took Mycroft’s brain an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was being kissed by Gregory, Gregory’s lips, Gregory was kissing him. He giggled into the kiss, grabbing Gregory’s neck and pulling him closer. They kissed until they were breathless, staring into each other’s eyes in the dark of the cabin. 

“I’m glad you came to camp, My,” Gregory breathed, and Mycroft nodded, and leaned in to kiss his beautiful Gregory again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiieeeee! Constructive criticism and kind comments are always welcome! I hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful beginning to 2015. xoxoxo


End file.
